


fishing in the dark

by countthestars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9962912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countthestars/pseuds/countthestars
Summary: Liam is the night janitor at a clandestine research facility, and Harry is its best kept secret.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a tumblr drabble that got out of hand. unbeta'd and melodramatic (soz) but there is a happy ending, so hopefully that makes up for it. there's also a lot of handwavy science, but the point of this fic is mermaids, okay. mermaids. 
> 
> title from the nitty gritty dirt band song of the same name.

Ear buds in and music blasting loud enough to drown out – well, everything, really – Liam pushes the sopping mop around the floor in time with the beat. He's so lost in the mindless rhythm of it, the familiar feeling of the wooden handle perfectly fitting the callouses on his palms, that he doesn't notice at first.

When he turns around, it takes his brain a moment to catch up. The mop falls to the floor with a distant clatter when it does, and Liam steps closer, mouth dropping open.

He's been the night janitor at this research facility for months now, which mostly entails emptying bins and hoovering the carpet of the offices he's got keys for. Most of the actual labs require a higher security clearance to enter, or maybe they just don't trust a lowly janitor not to muck up their science.

Someone must've accidentally left the door to this room unlocked, because Liam doesn't remember breaking his rhythm to fumble for his heavy key chain. He's positive this door has been kept locked in the past, because he would've remembered this sight.

Despite the fact that he's in the basement, the entire far wall is made of thick glass. The facility backs up to the ocean on this side, and outside, the sea presses against the glass, oddly lit with the orange glow of artificial light. It isn't strong enough to see very far, but it's enough to illuminate the occasional bright flash of a fish as it darts by.

It's also enough to illuminate the boy on the other side of the glass, watching Liam with intense eyes. He's got dark hair that floats lazily in the water and a mouth so pink he could be wearing lipstick.

He's also got a tail that shimmers with scales like a fish, and pulsing slits on either side of his neck. _Gills_ , Liam thinks, and stumbles hard when his knees give out, catching himself against the glass.

Cocking his head to the side, the boy swims – _swims_ , oh god – closer, and slowly lifts his hand, pressing it to the glass opposite Liam's.

They both startle when the door bangs open, light from the hallway spilling into the room. Liam hastily rips his ear buds out, the frantic beating of his heart providing an alternative soundtrack.

“Liam,” Mr. Winston says evenly. Liam hasn't spoken to him since the day he offered Liam the job, congratulating him on having a clean background check. “I see you've met Harry.”

“I--” Liam falters, licking his dry lips. “The door was unlocked.”

Mr. Winston offers him a thin-lipped smile. For once, his eyes don't look kind. “An unfortunate oversight, but nothing that can't be remedied. You'll sign a non-disclosure agreement, and I will have a word with Dr. Horan about keeping this door locked in the future.”

“Of course,” Liam says. He can't help darting a glance back towards the boy – the mermaid? Harry, Winston had called him – who's still watching Liam with the same intent look. “Is he--” Liam doesn't know how to finish the question, doesn't know what he's even trying to ask.

“Beautiful, no? And one of a kind; at least, as far as we've been able prove.” Winston steps closer, studying Harry with a critical eye. “Best we can tell, his intelligence level is similar to a dolphin's. He's capable of rudimentary communication, learning complex tricks for rewards – food, mostly – but beyond that, hasn't given us much to work with.”

Mr. Winston places a heavy hand on Liam's shoulder. His gaze is darker than Harry's, but no less intense. “I want you to understand, Liam. I can see the look on your face, and I know what you're thinking, but he's not like a human. It's for the best if you forget you ever saw him, and move on with your life. If it gets out, that creatures like Harry exist...” Winston trails off, raising one eyebrow. Liam swallows. He's only a janitor, not a scientist like everyone else here, but he's smart enough to fill in the blanks.

“I understand,” he says.

Still, he can't help glancing back over his shoulder one last time as Winston steers him out of the room, fingers gripping Liam's shoulder tightly.

Harry's still watching him, the skin between his eyes knit with a very human-like frown.

–

“Oh,” Liam says after ducking his head into an empty office and realizing it's not actually empty. “Sorry, I--”

“What?” Dr. Horan glances up from his computer, glasses sliding down his nose. He pushes them back up with his forefinger. “Nah, you're all right, mate. God, it must be really getting late, if the cleaning crew is here already.”

It's not really a crew so much as it's just Liam, but he only made it two semesters before dropping out of uni and Dr. Horan is, like, a _doctor_ , so. Not Liam's place to correct him, he's pretty sure.

“Just need to take out the bin,” Liam offers, since Dr. Horan's office is usually one of the neater ones he cleans. He shuffles into the room a bit awkwardly, and suddenly Dr. Horan's eyes seem to snap into focus, staring intently at Liam.

“Come into the light,” he says, beckoning Liam over. Slowly, Liam inches closer to the desk lamp illuminating Dr. Horan's work space, one hand still clutching the replacement liner for the bin.

Liam swallows. “Um, what--”

“Tilt your chin up.”

The instruction throws Liam, but Dr. Horan says it so matter-of-factly that Liam finds himself obeying, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Ah-ha!” Dr. Horan crows after squinting at Liam's neck for a moment. “Mystery solved.”

Cautiously, Liam lowers his chin. “What, uh – what mystery…?”

Pushing to his feet, Dr. Horan grins. It makes him look years younger, the crow's feet creasing his skin lost to the crinkle of his smile. “You're the custodian that spotted Harry, aren't you?”

For some reason, Liam flushes. It's been nearly a week, and he's still not quite over the shock. “It was an accident. I signed the non-disclosure agreement.”

Dr. Horan waves his hand, dismissive. “Ben worries too much. I, on the other hand, know exactly what to do when presented with an opportunity.”

“Yeah?” Liam smiles back, cautious. Dr. Horan's eyes always look kind, even if Liam's only bumped into him a few times, working this late. “What kind of opportunity?”

Waggling his eyebrows, Dr. Horan asks, “Would you like to meet a mermaid?”

-

“It's layman's terms, obviously, to call him a mermaid – but to be quite honest, the nomenclature bores me to tears. That's more Ben's area of interest, anyway. You ask me, Harry should get a say in what we call him, but of course, that's the problem, isn't it?”

Liam frowns. “What, exactly, is the problem?”

Leading them up a stairwell – up, not down to where the room with the window was – Dr. Horan says, “ _Communication_. See, Harry has the means to communicate, I'm sure of it. The facial expressions, the gestures, his ability to pick up on emotions – like, we're not talking about Koko the gorilla, you know? This is human level intelligence.”

Either Dr. Horan is younger than he looks, or he's highly caffeinated. Liam's a bit winded by the time they make it to the top of the stairs, and gratefully takes the time to catch his breath as Dr. Horan flips through a massive key ring bigger than the one on Liam's belt, swearing under his breath as he searches for the right one.

When he can talk without embarrassing himself by panting, Liam ventures cautiously. “Mr. Winston, er, Ben – he said that Harry was only capable of, um, like, just basic communication. Tricks and stuff. Like a dolphin?”

Dr. Horan finally finds the right key, unlocking the door with a triumphant noise. He swings it open, gesturing for Liam to go through. The sharp, briny smell of the ocean hits his nose immediately, a cool breeze ruffling his hair as he steps outside onto what appears to be an observation deck.

“Ben's problem is that he's a realist. Sure, Harry hasn't picked up on more than few basic signs since we've been working with him, but I don't think it's an issue of intelligence,” Dr. Horan explains, fumbling for something near the door. Flood lights turn on a second later, casting an orange glow onto the deck, the metal railing surrounding it, and the dark, lapping waves that crash against the side, spilling over every few seconds.

“Sorry if your shoes get wet,” Dr. Horan says. “Should've warned you before.”

“That's okay,” Liam says. He's buzzing a little. Cold water seeps into his soles almost immediately, but the last thing Liam wants to do is turn back. He's never seen this deck before, despite the months he's spent cleaning the lab and its many offices. Another forbidden space that's just been opened up to him, apparently. The deck is fairly narrow and u-shaped, surrounded on three sides by the massive concrete building.

The fourth side is open to the ocean, though Liam can't see anything beyond the halo of orange light.

“If he doesn't show up in a few minutes I'll try ringing the bell, but usually he sees the light and comes right up,” Dr. Horan says. He smiles at Liam again, like it's an inside joke between them. “Positive reinforcement, am I right?”

Luckily Liam doesn't have to figure out how to answer, because in less than thirty seconds Harry's head pops up. Underwater, his long hair flowed freely, but now it sticks to the side of his head, dark and shiny. He shakes it like a dog would, splattering water everywhere.

Dr. Horan laughs. “ _Manners!_ ”

Harry swims closer, and it's obvious at once what Dr. Horan meant about the facial expressions. Harry's grinning cheekily, a glint in his eyes that looks completely human.

“Oh,” Liam says, only it comes out more like a breathy sigh.

“Liam,” Dr. Horan says grandly once Harry's reached the edge of the deck. “This is Harry. Harry, Liam.”

Somehow, Harry's smile grows even bigger, dimples creasing his cheeks. He points to his own neck with excitement, gaze swinging from Dr. Horan to Liam back to Dr. Horan.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I figured out your little mystery, didn't I?” Dr. Horan sounds pleased. At Liam's perplexed look, he adds, “Your birthmark. Harry's been pointing to his neck all week, even rubbed some dirt or something on it one day, and I had no idea what he was on about.”

With a frown, Liam says, “He meant my birthmark?”

“Well...” Dr. Horan kneels down, closer to Harry's eye level, and gestures for Liam to do the same. His trousers will be soaked within minutes, but Liam sinks down anyway, the unforgiving metal floor of the deck uncomfortably hard. “I think he meant, like, you in general.”

“Me?” Liam glances at Dr. Horan, but he can't tear his gaze away from Harry for long. Harry swims even closer, until he can rest his elbows on the edge of the deck, less than an arm's length from Liam. The metal railing is still between them, but it doesn't stop Harry from extending his hand, palm up like he's asking for something.

Carefully, Liam reaches his own hand out until their fingertips are nearly brushing. “Can I touch him?” he whispers, afraid to break the spell that's fallen over the three of them.

“That's up to Harry, isn't it?”

Liam lets his hand hover for a moment, then catches Harry's eye again. There are no clear answers written there, though Harry doesn't look away. Taking a deep breath, Liam lowers his hand until his fingers touch Harry's.

His skin is wet and clammy, cold from the frigid water. Up close, Liam can make out the slight webbing between each finger, the skin so pale it's almost translucent.

“Oh, wow,” he breathes.

 _Oh, wow_ , Harry mouths, lips moving silently. He brings the hand not touching Liam's to his own throat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. _Ohwowohwowohwow._ There's no indication if he understands the words or not, but Liam still feels the kick of adrenaline like a punch.

“Does he – does he understand me?”

“That is the million dollar question.” Dr. Horan leans against the railing, grinning at them both. “And you, Liam, are my million dollar answer.”

-

“The problem with Harry,” Dr. Niall says (he insists Liam call him “just Niall, mate, seriously,” but Liam's mother raised him to have manners, thank you), “is that he's a cat, when we need a dog.”

He tosses Harry another treat – shrimp, his favorite, though still not enough to coax a word out of him, just unintelligible chirps and whistles – and Harry crunches on it happily, sticking his tongue out to catch any crumbs.

It's been a few weeks of late night mermaid sessions, and every time Liam thinks they're close to a breakthrough, Harry goes and throws a wrench into things, messing up Dr. Niall's careful spreadsheets. He doesn't look the least bit sorry when Dr. Niall slumps in defeat, but does enjoy grabbing Liam by the hand and trying to pull him into the water. Liam took to wearing a life vest on night three, which seemed to delight Harry endlessly.

Now, Liam frowns, cautiously letting Harry play with his fingers. He has to keep a close eye on it, or Harry'll try to stuff them in his mouth again. Harry will stuff just about anything in his mouth, and Liam's learned the hard way that his teeth are sharper than a human's. “I thought he was a fish?”

Dr. Niall shakes his head. “No, he's technically a mammal – we think – but I see where I lost you.”

The thing Liam likes most about Dr. Niall is that he's endlessly kind, always stopping to explain himself to Liam like it's no bother at all. After officially introducing Liam to Harry, Dr. Niall patiently caught Liam up on everything they knew about him.

(“Not much, unfortunately. We caught him trying to steal live bait from one of our storage areas a few months ago, and I think he's mostly stuck around since for the food, in all honesty. He only shows up at night, and the one time we managed to get a tracking device on him, he didn't wander far from the lab, even during the day. Oh, actually, he did cause quite an uproar when all of the sudden the GPS had him clocked at 50 knots, but then we figured out he'd tossed the tracking device onto a boat. I'm telling you, Liam. He's a menace.”)

Liam ducks his head and lets Harry thread their fingers together until his bump the webbing between Harry's.

“Dogs and cats are both smart, right, but it's easier to teach a dog tricks because they're motivated and – this is the key – cooperative. Cats, though. They've got their own agenda. Impossible to study their intelligence, because they just don't want to play along.” Dr. Niall nods grimly. “That's Harry.”

Harry beams like he understands and is in complete agreement, and then reaches out to run a cold, wet finger along Liam's bristled cheek. He runs the same finger along his own smooth jaw, twisting his mouth into an exaggerated frown.

Liam laughs. “I think he wants to grow a beard.”

Shaking his head again, Dr. Niall crosses his arms. “You know that's useless to me, don't you, Harry? You know I can't publish that shit. You're being difficult _on purpose_.”

If Harry understands, he gives no indication.

-

Liam goes out with his mates on Friday night, and doesn't tell them about his new extracurricular activity assisting scientists in studying real, live mermaids. It's only partially because of the non-disclosure agreement he signed, or because they wouldn't believe him, anyway.

No, it's mostly because he's got a soft spot for Harry a mile wide, and still can't shake the seed of fear that if the public were to find out about him, no one, not Dr. Niall or the agency, could keep him safe.

He wakes up Saturday morning completely miserable, and doesn't cotton on until Sunday that it's probably not a hangover. By Tuesday, he's finally feeling well enough to return to work, though he's still not 100% recovered.

When he sees the pinched look on Dr. Niall's face, his stomach threatens to heave again. “What's wrong?” Liam asks, immediately abandoning his mop bucket. He's been lacking on his custodial duties ever since Dr. Niall recruited him, and no one's yelled at him about it yet. Still, he can't risk losing this job. That would mean losing Harry.

“It's nothing. Probably. Maybe?” Dr. Niall's mouth thins. “But you better come with me, just in case.”

By now, the route to the observation deck is familiar. Liam doesn't know if Harry shows up on weekends, but he almost always surfaces as soon as Dr. Niall turns the flood light on, ready for a treat and to hold Liam's hand. Liam, for his part, has learned to bring a pair of waterproof boots to go with his life vest, though Harry takes particular joy in splashing him.

When Dr. Niall turns on the light tonight, though, Harry doesn't immediately appear. Dr. Niall doesn't wait before ringing the bell, and Liam's stomach flips. They've only needed to ring the bell once to get Harry's attention, and he surfaced not a minute later.

A few minutes go by, and there's still no sign of Harry.

“Where is he?” Liam asks, barely loud enough to be heard over the crash of waves against the deck.

“I don't know,” Dr. Niall says. “I thought maybe he didn't come yesterday because you were out sick, but now...”

Liam doesn't like the way he trails off. “Now what?”

Dr. Niall levels him a look. “You ever been scuba diving, Liam?”

Liam has not, and since “Ben will fucking kill me if I let you near the scuba equipment without you being property certified, sorry, mate,” Liam is relegated to boat duty.

“I've studied the data we got when he had the tracking device, so we actually know his general territory,” Dr. Niall explains, pulling on his wetsuit with practiced efficiency. “He doesn't stray too far from the shore, which is good, because it means we can narrow our search radius.” Snapping his goggles into place, he adds, “It's actually better if you're above the surface manning the spotlight. We haven't figured out if his gills serve any functionality, so we're operating under the assumption he needs air to survive. If I find him underwater...”

Liam doesn't need a doctorate to understand what Dr. Niall's implying. “Got it. You dive, I'll check the shoreline.”

He may be a janitor by trade, but Liam grew up next to the ocean. He knows his way around a boat, knows the ebb and flow of the tide, the dangers of a riptide. He knows the risk Dr. Niall's taking, diving at night with just a torch to see by, but the thought of waiting on the observation deck for Harry not to show makes his stomach clench.

Liam keeps the boat at a crawl, scanning the shoreline with the spotlight carefully. Dr. Niall isn't far beneath the surface and Liam can see his torchlight as well, flicking back and forth as he searches the nooks and crannies beneath the water.

It's slow going, and probably pointless. Both of them know that any chance of a rescue relies on Harry spotting their lights and doing something to catch their attention, given the vastness of their search. Liam finds himself calling for Harry, even as the wind swallows up the sound. He left his mobile back at the lab, not wanting it to get wet, and he has no idea how long they've been out here, but it feels like an hour or two at least.

Dr. Niall finally surfaces, spitting out his mouth piece. “I'm running low on oxygen,” he says. “I think--”

He cuts himself off as a sharp whistle pierces the air. Liam's eyes go wide. “ _Harry_.”

Dr. Niall scrambles up the ladder, and Liam grabs him by the forearm to heave him the rest of the way into the boat before turning up the throttle, aiming the boat in the direction of that high whistle. “Harry!” he shouts, as loud as he can. “Harry!”

The whistle comes again, and Liam kills the throttle, slowing to halt. It's got to be Harry, it's got to. It's one of the few noises he actually makes, and it's not a coincidence they've heard it twice. Dr. Niall's still trying to shrug off his oxygen tank and goggles, so Liam grabs hold of the spotlight again, scanning along the rocky shore.

He nearly skims right past, Harry's skin the same pale white as the rocks, but the flash of red catches his eye. Liam turns the spotlight back and his heart nearly stops as he processes what he's seeing.

On instinct, Liam kicks off his shoes and dives out of the boat, hitting the freezing water with a splash.

“Liam!” Dr. Niall calls. “What the hell are you doing?”

But Liam's not listening. With quick, ruthless strokes, he makes the short swim to the shoreline, pulling himself up onto the jagged edge of a large boulder. It slopes gently towards the water, making it easy to climb, which is probably exactly why Harry chose it. Behind Liam, the spotlight shudders before stabilizing again, fixed directly on them. Dr. Niall's handiwork, no doubt.

Harry's eyes are wide and frightened in the light, reflecting with a strange glow like a cat's. Up close, Liam can see that the cut on his back isn't fresh, like he first thought, but still raw and ragged, splitting his skin from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

“Oh, Harry,” Liam whispers, heaving himself up further onto the rock. He reaches a hand out to cup Harry's cheek, and Harry's eyes slip shut as he presses into Liam's touch.

“Liam,” Harry says, voice barely more than a croak.

Liam nearly topples back into the ocean.

-

“Liam?”

There's a thread of worry in Dr. Niall's voice, and Liam genuinely doesn't know how to answer.

“Liam,” Dr. Niall repeats. “Is he okay?”

Harry's eyes are still closed, mouth open in a ragged pant, and Liam thinks he might've imagined it. Fighting a shiver – his wet clothes cling uncomfortably to his skin, and it's not exactly warm out – Liam rubs his thumb over Harry's smooth cheek.

“He's hurt,” Liam calls back over his shoulder. “Hurt and scared, I think.”

Harry doesn't say anything else – maybe Liam really did imagine it – but he does cautiously sneak a hand out, grabbing hold of Liam's wrist and clinging tightly.

“Can he swim?” Dr. Niall asks. He keeps the spotlight steady on them, the bright light cutting through the dark. “Don't reckon we're gonna have an easy time getting him in the boat.”

“I don't know.” Lacing his fingers through Harry's, Liam tugs gently. “C'mon, H.”

Harry doesn't budge.

“Please, love. We're gonna make sure you're safe, all right?” Liam keeps his voice gentle, calm. “Dr. Niall will fix you right up and you'll be right as rain in no time at all. But we can't do anything for you out here.”

Slitting one eye open, Harry gives him a wary look, but this time when Liam tugs, he inches forward. He moves slowly, wincing with pain, and he's been out of the water so long already that his hair has started to dry into loose, wavy curls. Liam pushes it back from Harry's face.

Dr. Niall's too occupied holding the light steady so that they can see to steer the boat any closer, which means they both have to jump back into the water to reach it. It feels even colder the second time around without the kick of adrenaline, and Liam's thankful for his life vest when Harry clings to him, one arm wrapped around Liam's neck. Beneath the water, his tail bumps against Liam's legs, pumping weakly.

“I don't think he can make it back to the lab,” Liam manages, using his free arm to paddle closer to the boat. There's a ladder hanging off the back near the engine and Liam grabs hold, breathing hard. “It's his back. He's got a pretty bad cut, Dr. N. Dunno if he lost a lot of blood or something, but he can't – or won't – swim.”

Dr. Niall swears softly. “We can try to get him in the boat, but he'll have to cooperate.”

It's no easy task helping a fully grown mermaid into a rocking boat, especially when he panics halfway through and starts thrashing his tail, knocking Liam back a few feet with the force of it. Liam's still coughing out water when Dr. Niall grabs Harry by his biceps and _heaves_ , pulling him over the edge and into the boat with a crash. Weighed down with his waterlogged clothes, Liam scrambles as fast as he can back to the boat, pulling himself in after Harry.

The second he lands in a wet, soggy pile on the floor of the boat, Harry's on him, arms wrapped tight around Liam's waist and his face tucked into Liam's neck. He's shaking, though Liam doesn't know if it's from fear, adrenaline, pain, or a combination of all three.

“Shit,” Dr. Niall says, kneeling down to get a better look at Harry's back. He's as wet and winded as Liam, though at least has the protection of his wetsuit. “Looks like a boat propeller got him.”

Liam would hide his face in his hands if they weren't full of scared, trembling mermaid. “Well, no wonder he freaked out.”

Dr. Niall looks grim. “We need to get him back to the lab ASAP. I don't like the look of this cut, Liam. We may need to get him to a doctor.”

“I thought--” Liam licks his lips. They taste salty. “Aren't you a doctor, though?”

“I'm a marine biologist. Not a medical doctor,” Dr. Niall explains, gentle and patient as always. He gives Harry's back another long look. “Though given our lack of knowledge about Harry's species… I don't know. I just don't know.”

Liam's exhausted, suddenly, and wraps his arms tighter around Harry, holding him close.

-

Harry doesn't make a sound the entire boat ride back to the lab, and keeps his face buried in Liam's neck. Liam can feel the warm puffs of his breath, the way his skin feels too dry the longer he's out of the water.

Back at the lab, he's docile as a lamb as they get him out of the boat and bundled up on an exam table, wheeling him down darkened hallways, belly down and long tail hanging over the edge. He refuses to let go of Liam's hand.

The lab doesn't exactly have a medical doctor on standby, and Dr. Niall won't stop muttering about 'bureaucratic red tape, fucking pain my _arse_ ,' but in the end they both agree a doctor won't be much help, anyway. “Not like we have a mermaid specialist we can call, right?”

“Right,” Liam says, distracting Harry by squeezing his hand and stroking his hair while Dr. Niall fusses over his back, doing his best to mitigate the damage. The way Harry's clenching his jaw to keep quiet is obvious, and he doesn't let out more than a few pained whimpers that break Liam's heart.

“You're all right, love, you're all right,” he repeats over and over, like if he says it enough times, it'll be true.

“Well, I've got it cleaned out,” Dr. Niall says at last, wiping the sweat from his brow. Harry's skin looks ghastly beneath the too bright fluorescent light, and even his normally shimmering tail is dull. “I think he may need antibiotics, but we don't know the first thing about his immune system, or how it'll react. We'll just have to hope for the best at this point.”

“Can he go back in the water?” Liam asks, even though the last thing he wants is to put Harry back in the cold, unforgiving ocean.

Dr. Niall chews at his fingernail, considering. “Salt water tank maybe, if he's willing. I'd like to keep him under observation, at least until tomorrow.”

The lab only has one tank large enough to comfortably house Harry that isn't already occupied, and the look he gives them once he's in is so reproachful Liam wants to pull him right back out.

“What do you want, Harry?” Liam asks him, voice pitched low so Dr. Niall won't overhear. “Do you want to go back into the ocean?”

Harry doesn't say anything.

“Please,” Liam whispers. “I know you can understand me. Tell me how to _help_ you.”

Silence.

-

Liam's prepared to camp out all night next to Harry's tank, but Dr. Niall gives him explicit instructions to “go home to your own bed, Liam. Harry will still be here tomorrow, and you can't help him if you're dead on your feet.”

There may be something to his advice, because Liam faceplants on his bed the second he gets home, sleeping well into the afternoon. He doesn't have to report to work until later, despite pulling double duty as both the night janitor and Dr. Niall's assistant mermaid wrangler, but he goes in early, eager to see how the rest of Harry's night went.

He's a little taken aback at the flurry of activity he finds when he reaches the lab, but then, he's only ever been here at night when most people have gone home for the day. It's normal, probably.

One look at Dr. Niall's face tells him otherwise. He looks worried, his eyes strained behind the frames of his glasses, and he shuts the door behind them after letting Liam into his office.

“What is it?” Liam asks, keeping his voice hushed. “Is Harry...?”

Dr. Niall holds up a hand. “It's all right, Liam. He's fine, medically speaking. He's on the mend, should be well enough to release back into the ocean in the next day or so.”

Liam sags in relief. “Good. Good, that's great.”

Pulling off his glasses, Dr. Niall rubs at the bridge of his nose. “But we have another problem. Harry was our best kept secret, thanks to Ben, so I was able to focus my research on studying his ability to communicate, to learn new tasks, that sort of thing. Now that he's in captivity, and quite a few of the scientists here have gotten a look at him… Liam, they're not going to let him go.”

“Not going to… Dr. N, they can't just keep him in that tiny little tank for the rest of his life! That's ridiculous.”

“That's science,” Dr. Niall counters. He sounds tired. Really tired. “This kind of opportunity to study something – someone – like Harry in close quarters, to be able to monitor his vitals, to collect samples, it's unprecedented.”

Liam feels a bit sick. “But that's cruel, keeping him locked up just to poke and prod at him like that.”

Slipping his glasses back on, Dr. Niall squares his jaw. “I know, Liam. But I have an idea. It will involve breaking several rules, and possibly also some laws. Before we go any further, I need to know if you're in or out.”

“I'm in,” Liam says immediately. “If it'll help Harry… I'm in.”

Dr. Niall grins, and it takes years off his face. “Perfect. Then tomorrow night, we're busting Harry out of here.”

-

Dr. Niall's plan to free Harry mostly just involves bribing the night security guard, a bloke named Bressie who's as broad as oak, to turn off the security camera feed and look the other way while they spring Harry from his tank. The lab's usually deserted at night, and it's not like Harry will put up a fight. It's a solid plan.

Except that Liam catches the 6-o-clock news before the start of his shift.

“Oh, shit,” he says, sinking down on the edge of the couch. “This is not good.”

-

“This is really fucking bad,” Dr. Niall says.

There was a news van parked just outside the lab when Liam arrived for his shift, but no one shoved a microphone in his face like he expected. Maybe no one believed that a lowly janitor knew the lab's biggest secret.

Well. Harry wasn't a secret anymore, was he?

“This doesn't change anything,” Liam argues. “We can still get him out of the tank, get him back into the ocean. It's not like they can see the observation deck from the street.” The lab is an imposing building enclosed by a tall chainlink fence on three sides, and backed up directly to the water on the fourth. As long as Bressie doesn't turn on them, their plan can still work.

But Dr. Niall shakes his head. “Liam, they're out there with boats, combing the water within a mile's radius of the lab. Whoever tipped off the media didn't have enough evidence to substantiate Harry's existence, and they want proof. Someone's hoping to get lucky and capture a second mermaid. If we put Harry back out there...”

“But he's the only one! You said so yourself.” Nervous sweat pricks Liam's palms.

“The only one we've managed to find, yes, but – obviously Harry didn't come from nowhere. The media, the public, they have no idea what little information we've managed to glean from our contact with Harry. And until the media frenzy dies down… it's not going to be safe for him out there. Not when his home, his territory, is under this kind of scrutiny.”

It hadn't even been a headline story, just one of those filler pieces right before it cut to the weather.

_Mermaids real? Anonymous reports of 'something fishy' at local research facility…_

They didn't even have a picture of Harry. But it was the kind of story that stuck, the kind that inspired conspiracy theorists to take a second look, to dig deeper.

The kind that put Harry in danger.

“So what do we do now?” Liam asks. “Keep him here, locked up like an animal? Whoever leaked it to the media obviously knows about him. It'll only be a matter of time before they get their proof, and then what happens?”

“I know, Liam,” Dr. Niall says, rubbing at his face. “I know.” He chews his lower lip. “We could load him up in one of the transport vans, take him further up the coast. I just worry that he'll find his way back to the lab… fuck, if we could just _talk_ to him, tell him to stay away for his own safety.”

Liam swallows. “Can I see him?”

-

Harry's floating on his back at the top of the tank when Liam enters the room, and it's not until Liam offers a tentative, “hey, pet,” that Harry looks over. The smile that pulls at his lips is small, but genuine, and Liam's heart might skip a beat.

“How's your back then? Go on, let's see it.”

Harry doesn't show Liam his back. Instead, he flings himself towards the edge of the tank, spilling water over the side as he hooks his elbows on the outside of the glass to peer out at Liam. His wet hair is plastered to his head, dripping water down his face and neck.

The tank is tall enough that Liam has to look up to meet Harry's eyes. He reaches out his hand, and Harry takes it happily, threading his webbed fingers through Liam's and squeezing gently. Liam wants to take him home, protect him from everything.

“Harry,” he says slowly. “Dr. Niall and I want to get you out of this tank, back to the ocean. Back to your home. But it's not safe for you right now. Do you understand that? There are – not good people, and they'll find you. If we get out of out here, you'd have to leave. Tell me you understand that.”

Harry squeezes Liam's hand again. “Home,” he says.

Liam blinks in surprise. “What?”

Squeezing Liam's hand again, Harry says, “Home. _Safe_.”

Liam gapes at him. “Do you… do you really understand me?”

Harry winks.

-

“You're not going to like this plan,” Liam warns Dr. Niall, swallowing down the guilt of his secret. Harry's secret, he tells himself. If he wanted Dr. Niall to know he could talk, he wouldn't said something in front of him, too.

“Try me. I'm open to anything at this point.”

Liam lays out his idea while Harry watches them, chin rested on his crossed arms. His tail swishes lazily back and forth in the water, reflecting dully in the florescent lighting.

Dr. Niall listens intently, lips pressed into a thin line. “You're right,” he says when Liam's done. “I don't like it, but I honestly can't think of anything better, and we need to act fast. Lets do it.”

One bribed security guard and several bruised elbows later – Harry is heavy and clumsy, even when he's being his most cooperative – Liam and Dr. Niall have a contraband mermaid in the back of one of the lab's vans. Harry's wrapped in a dripping wet blanket, just the finned end of his tail sticking out on one end and his arms on the other, wrapped firmly around Liam.

“Mate,” Dr. Niall says, cautiously easing through the open garage door and down the lab's private drive, “It's a damn good thing Harry fancies you, or I don't think we could pull this off.”

Liam's cheeks feel a bit hot, even with cold, wet mermaid all pressed up against him. “That's not – he doesn't _fancy_ me.”

With a grin, Dr. Niall catches Liam's eye in the rear view mirror. “No? Why do you think I recruited you in the first place? You've got a connection with him, Liam. There's no denying that.”

They make it as far as the gate at the end of the drive before a figure approaches. “Don't make a sound,” Dr. Niall mutters to Liam. “Just let me do the talking.”

He rolls the driver's side window down after someone raps their knuckles, and Liam holds Harry close, hardly daring to breathe.

“Ben!” Dr. Niall says, managing to sound both cheerful and surprised. “Was not expecting to see you out so late.”

“Obviously,” Mr. Winston says. If his tone wasn't clear enough, his next words make it crystal: “What are you doing with our most valuable asset?”

Dr. Niall laughs nervously. “Just, uh, you know – thought maybe a midnight drive might, uh--”

“Did you take all your files with you? All the records you could find on him?” Mr. Winston interrupts, voice low and urgent.

“You know I only have access to my own,” Dr. Niall says, dropping the fake cheer. “Whatever's been done to him in the last 24 hours...”

“I'll take care of it,” Mr. Winston says. “Avoid the major major streets. Make sure no one tails you out of here.”

Dr. Niall's quiet for a moment. “You aren't going to stop us?”

Mr. Winston's sigh is audible. “We let the secret get out, but I won't let Harry get caught in the crossfire. Keep him safe, you hear me? There will be hell to pay if he's found in your custody.”

“Understood,” Dr. Niall says. “He's in good hands, Ben. I promise you that.”

“If I didn't trust you, you wouldn't be leaving with him.” With those parting words, Mr. Winston steps back, opening the gate to let them out.

The news van that was parked outside when Liam arrived is gone, and Liam lets himself relax incrementally. “Are we really in the clear?” he asks, smoothing back Harry's hair from his face. Harry presses into his touch. “Mr. Winston – Ben – he's really going to let us go?”

“Ben's a good guy,” Dr. Niall says, checking the rear view and side mirrors compulsively as they leave the lab behind. “He does what it takes to protect Harry, you know?”

Liam can relate.

-

The further they get from the lab, the more agitated Harry gets, bond with Liam or no. Liam doesn't know if it's the movement of the van he doesn't like, or being out of the water, or something else completely. He hides his face in Liam's collarbone, silent save for his slightly ragged breathing.

“Tell me you want to go home, _your_ home, the ocean, and we'll take you there,” Liam whispers, rubbing his hand up and down Harry's back, careful not to touch the slowly healing cut. Harry burrows closer, one hand finding Liam's to squeeze tightly.

“Okay,” Liam breathes. “Then just hold on, darling. We're almost there.”

It's a bit surreal when Niall pulls up in front of Liam's shabby apartment building, killing the ignition. “We got a plan to get him inside, then?”

“Well.” Liam shifts Harry off his lap slightly, legs tingly with pins and needles. “It's almost 1am, and no one is expecting us to cart a mermaid around in the open. I think we just have to hope for the best that no one will see anything, and not assume it's a mermaid wrapped up in this blanket if they do.”

Dr. Niall nods, glancing out the driver's side window at the deserted street and darkened windows. “At this point, we don't have anything better.”

It's no easy task, carrying Harry up three flights of stairs to Liam's flat. He's breathing hard by the time he reaches his door, and the way Harry nuzzles his face into Liam's neck feels a bit like an apology. Dr. Niall gets the door unlocked for them, fishing Liam's keys out of his pocket, and Liam staggers inside straight to the bathroom.

His tub isn't exactly big, and Harry's tail sticks out one end once Liam has settled him inside it. He startles when Liam turns the faucet on, but recovers quickly as the tub starts to fill with water, watching with fascination.

“I know it's a bit cramped,” Liam tells him apologetically. “But it's just for tonight, to keep you wet, okay? We'll figure out a long-term plan tomorrow.”

“Once Ben destroys the records, no one will be able to prove his existence. The story will blow over, and we can get him back to the ocean, or wherever,” Dr. Niall says. Neither of them mention what happens if anyone from the lab got proof before they smuggled Harry out, or Mr. Winston misses a record in his purge. They both know Liam's bathroom isn't a long-term option. It's barely a short-term one, but Harry's not putting up a fight.

Dr. Niall doesn't stay long, anxious to get the van back to the lab and away from Liam's flat before they arouse suspicion. “Just get him some seafood, crabs or shrimp, he seems to really like those,” he advises, ducking out the door. “Fresh, not frozen.”

They should have grabbed some from the lab's stores before making their great escape, but it's too late now. Liam hopes Harry can survive without food until morning, because all he's got in his fridge is a frozen pizza and maybe some eggs.

After locking the door behind Dr. Niall, Liam hurries back to the bathroom. He folds himself down onto the floor next to Harry, leaning against the wall and tipping his head back. The rush of adrenaline hasn't quite faded, leaving his nerves on edge.

“I'm sorry,” Liam says after awhile, the only sound Harry's quiet splashing. “It's shit, stuffing you in my bathtub like this. I just – I wanted to be able to keep an eye on you, you know? I have to know you're safe.”

Harry grabs Liam's wrist, tugging him closer until Liam rolls to his knees, facing Harry. His hair hangs in damp tendrils, framing his face, curling as it slowly dries. His eyes are bright, bright, bright, studying Liam with intent. He chews on his lower lip, and oddly human gesture.

“ _Do_ you understand me?” Liam asks again.

Harry leans forward and kisses him.

It's over in a second, just a quick, hard press of Harry's mouth against his. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub as Harry draws back, his eyes somehow even wider than before.

“You… you kissed me,” Liam says dumbly.

Harry's brows furrow. “You're my friend,” he says, slowly sounding out each word. “I...” Trailing off, he touches his fingertips to his mouth, fluttering them. “I care – you.”

Liam can barely breathe. “You care about me? Is that what you're trying to say?”

Heaving a giant sigh, Harry mutters a string of words that don't sound like any language Liam's ever heard.

“I don't understand,” he says. “Harry, what—”

Slowly – so incredibly slowly – Harry says, “I know what you say. I know words. Not all. Many. Is hard to… hard to say.”

Liam gapes at him. “Dr. Niall's been trying for months to get a word out of you, and you've been able to speak English this entire time?”

Harry actually rolls his eyes, which is something he must've picked up from Dr. Niall because there's no way that's a mermaid mannerism. “No. I – to understand, yes. To say, to make the words, is hard.” He thinks about it and adds, “And I like the treats. I can have more? Now?”

It's true; Dr. Niall did try to bribe Harry with all sorts of treats to coax him into talking. Harry must've been laughing at them the whole time, playing them for fools. Liam lets out an involuntary sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff. “Oh my god.”

“Treats,” Harry says again, smiling hopefully. “Please?”

Punch drunk with the surreality of it all, Liam tries to find his bearings. “You're hungry?”

Harry pokes him. “Fresh, not frozen.”

If Harry's calm enough to demand food despite the madness of the night, despite being packed up into a moving vehicle, despite being stuffed into an uncomfortable bathtub, despite everything that he went through before Dr. Niall and Liam could get him out, then Liam can roll with the fact that Harry can talk. He _can_.

“I don't have anything you'd – oh, maybe a tuna sandwich?”

“Tuna,” Harry repeats, sounding agreeable enough.

Liam pushes to his feet and finds that his knees are only slightly shaky. Probably just the adrenaline wearing off. “I'll be right back, okay? Wait here. Stay.”

Harry slaps his tail a little harder, splashing more water over the side of the tub, and Liam winces. Right. He probably shouldn't talk to Harry like he's a dog. “Sorry, I just – I'll be right back,” he repeats, stumbling towards the kitchen.

Liam searches the cupboards twice, but he can't find any tins of tuna. All he manages to scrounge up is a half a jar of peanut butter and some bread. He does find a clean knife, and gets as far as unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter before his legs give out and he slides slowly to the floor, black dots dancing in front of his eyes.

Harry can _talk_. Liam's hiding a fugitive mermaid in his bathroom; a thinking, talking fugitive mermaid, and he's so unprepared that he's making him a fucking peanut butter sandwich. What if Harry has peanut allergies? What if Liam accidentally kills him?

What if Liam marches back into the bathroom and kisses him again?

There's a sudden thud from the bathroom that pulls Liam out of his spiraling thoughts, and he lurches to his feet, heart racing. _Harry_.

“Harry, are you okay?” Liam calls, scrambling towards the bathroom. He makes it as far as the kitchen doorway before he pulls up short. The thump must've been from Harry flopping out of the tub, because he's at the other end of the narrow hallway that connects the kitchen to the bathroom, dripping water all over Liam's floor as he crawls slowly, pulling himself along with his arms.

Liam drops to his knees to put himself at Harry's eye level. “Harry, babe, what are you doing?”

“You left,” Harry says, giving one last mighty heave to reach Liam. Groping out with one arm, he grabs hold of Liam's shirt, using the leverage to pull himself into Liam's lap. “I don't like it when you go.”

“You're going to hurt your back, crawling around like this,” Liam tells him, but wraps his arms around Harry all the same, tugging him in close. “I'm sorry,” he adds, pressing the words into Harry's soft, damp hair. “I'm so sorry.”

He means for all of it; leaving Harry alone, the van ride, putting him in the tank and letting the secret out, his injured back, for having nothing to offer him but a peanut butter sandwich.

Harry's got one arm looped around Liam's neck, his face tucked against Liam's throat. He's pressed nearly chest to chest with Liam, and Liam can feel how rapidly Harry's heart is beating.

“I want my--” Harry mumbles a word Liam doesn't quite catch.

“Your what?” he prompts, rubbing his hand up and down Harry's back, stopping just short of the scales that start at his waist.

“My – I don't know the word. My kind, you say, but more… more…” he breaks off, sounding frustrated.

“Your family,” Liam guesses, throat going tight. “Is that right? You care about them?”

“Care about them,” Harry agrees. “Love them. The word is family?” He sounds it out carefully, tipping his face up to catch Liam's eye.

Liam hasn't got the foggiest clue if mermaids recognize family units, if Harry's got a mom and a dad and siblings out there, wondering about him, or a pack or a tribe or something. Dr. Niall's words echo in his head. “ _The only one we've managed to find, but obviously Harry didn't come from nowhere_.” He's been alone since Dr. Niall's known him though. Lonely, and clinging to Liam for comfort, because he's got no one else.

“Yeah,” Liam says at last. “Family is the word.”

-

Harry waits stubbornly in the hall, eyes on Liam while he finishes making the sandwich. “I don't know if you'll like it, or if it'll--” Liam doesn't know how to explain allergies without making it sound like he's trying to poison Harry. “Just take a small bite, okay?”

Warily, Harry takes the offered sandwich from Liam, sniffing at it with suspicion. Liam made a second one for himself and eats it methodically without tasting it, hoping Harry will copy him. Liam's halfway done before Harry takes his first bite, nibbling at the corner. He chews and swallows, face lighting up. “What is it?” he asks, tearing off a much bigger bite.

“Peanut butter,” Liam says, watching with amazing as Harry all but inhales his sandwich, licking at his lips and teeth when he's finished like he's trying to chase the taste.

“Good,” Harry declares. “Many, many good.”

“Very good,” Liam corrects, breathing out a sigh of relief with each passing moment that Harry doesn't show any signs of an allergic reaction. “Now let's get you back into the tub, okay? I won't leave this time. I promise.”

“What's promise?” Harry asks, but doesn't struggle when Liam gets an arm under his back and tail, heaving him up with a grunt. He staggers a moment before he finds his balance, making his way carefully back down the hall towards the bathroom.

“It means...” Liam casts around for a way to explain it. “It means that I will do what I say I will do. I won't lie.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees. He yawns widely, clearly as exhausted as Liam, and barely moves as Liam slips him back into the tub, shifting around a little to get comfortable.

“I need to grab a blanket and a pillow and some dry clothes, okay?” Liam tells him. “I'll, um – I'll sing the whole time, so you can hear me, and know I'm still here.”

Harry just blinks at him sleepily, but his lips pull into a small smile when Liam starts belting the first top 40 hit that pops into his head. He hurries to his room, singing while he pulls his wet top and trousers off and exchanging them for a dry pair. Ripping the covers off his bed, he grabs a pillow before making his way back to Harry, reaching him before the end of the song.

“I like it,” Harry tells him. “The – the sing. Singing?”

“Singing,” Liam confirms. He pulls a few towels from the cupboard, building a little barrier between the edge of the tub and his makeshift pallet in case Harry splashes during the night. “We'll figure out how to get you back home in the morning, okay? Back to your family.”

Harry doesn't answer, and Liam settles onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. There's a small splash, and then Harry's wet fingers grope for Liam's wrist, sliding up until he can slot them through Liam's.

-

They both wake up sore and uncomfortable from sleeping in such a cramped space, and Liam spends the day reading to Harry to pass the time, Harry stopping him every few pages to ask what a word means. Liam ends up finding a dusty dictionary that's been shoved to the back of the bookcase when he keeps fumbling with the definitions, and Harry looks at it with longing, like he wants to devour the entire thing.

He's cranky and restless by the end of the day though, fidgeting in the tub, his gaze unfocused even when Liam tries to entice him with a new word. Liam leaps to his feet at the sound of a knock on the door, sighing with relief when he sees Dr. Niall's face through the peep hole.

“Please tell me you have a plan,” Liam says, swinging open the door. “He can't stand being cooped up like this, Dr. N.”

Dr. Niall looks as exhausted as Liam feels, deep purple bags under his eyes and his hair a mess, dark roots showing through the blonde. “Been analyzing data since last night, deleting Harry's files from the system and saving them onto a flash drive. Dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands, but too valuable to destroy,” Dr. Niall says. He rubs at his eyes one handed, the other holding what looks like a lunch bag. “Where is he? Still in the bathtub?”

“Yeah,” Liam confirms, gesturing for Dr. Niall to go ahead. He follows on his heels, mindful about leaving Harry alone for longer than a minute or two.

Harry splashes happily when Dr. Niall squeezes his way into the bathroom, and he gets even more excited when Dr. Niall pulls out a few shrimp from his bag, tossing them to Harry. While Harry munches on his treats, Dr. Niall settles himself on the closed lid of the toilet. “Like I said, I've been analyzing quite a bit of data, mostly on the characteristics of Harry's current territory – average temperature, depth of the ocean floor, marine life, current flow, that sort of thing. I think I've found a place we can release him with similar characteristics that's near mostly underdeveloped land on the coast, so he'll be as safe as possible from human interference.”

Liam keeps his eyes on Harry as Dr. Niall talks, but Harry doesn't look like he's paying attention at all, crunching his shrimp loudly.

“What about, like,” Liam starts slowly, trying not to give too much away. “Would it be possible to reconnect him with his family? Or his, I dunno what you'd call it, his pack or his clan or whatever?”

Harry doesn't look over, but his chewing suddenly becomes quieter, his shoulder hunching.

Dr. Niall frowns, his brow furrowing, and glances back and forth between Harry and Liam. “Obviously that would be ideal, but we don't know anything about his family. Is there something you know that I don't? Something that could help us?”

Liam shrugs. Unless Harry voices something, Liam doesn't actually know how to help him find his family again. And if he doesn't want to talk in front of Dr. Niall, then Liam won't be the one to betray his secret.

“Right, well. In that case, we'll go ahead with the original plan,” Dr. Niall decides, though he doesn't quite look convinced that Liam and Harry aren't hiding something. “I've got more treats for him in the van, so he'll be well fed by the time we get there. It'll give him a bit of time to acclimate before he needs to find food for himself, I think.”

“The van?” Liam repeats. “You mean, like. We're going to go tonight?”

Dr. Niall looks at him over the rim of his glasses. “You said yourself he didn't like being cooped up.” He sighs and adds, “Look, Liam, we need to move him to safety as quickly as possible. No one's leaked any proof to the media yet, but there's a shitstorm happening at the lab right now. Ben's trying to keep a lid on things, and I'd trust Bressie with my life, but it's possible someone could pinpoint us as the ones who got Harry out. You don't want the evidence sitting in your bathtub if that happens.”

Liam nods, feeling numb. “You're right, you're right. I just--” Harry finally glances over, meeting Liam's eye for the first time since Dr. Niall arrived. “I just want him to be safe,” Liam finishes.

It's the truth. Or at least, most of it.

-

“So, how far away is this secret location?” Liam asks, once they've gotten a bundled up Harry back down the stairs and into the waiting van. He doesn't look happy to be back here, but he doesn't put up a fight either, apparently resigned to his fate.

“Well,” Dr. Niall says, pulling out of the alley behind Liam's apartment building. “Depends on traffic, I suppose, but probably about an hour and half. Maybe two hours?”

Liam sits up straight, and Harry makes a noise of protest in his throat, clinging harder. “ _Two_ _hours_? That's way too far. Harry's going to freak out if we keep him in here for that long!” That's not really what's set Liam's heart pounding into overdrive, though. He hadn't really had the chance to think about what it would look like once they released Harry back into the ocean, but Liam had always factored himself into the equation.

There's no way he can still be a consistent part of Harry's life if he's two hours away. Not on Liam's salary.

Catching Liam's eye in the rear view mirror, Dr. Niall says calmly, “I don't like it either, but we don't have another option. Your job is to keep him calm, okay?”

“I'll try,” Liam mutters, slumping back down. He lets Harry grab him by the hand, pressing Liam's fingers to his mouth but not actually slipping them in to chew on.

They drive for a few miles in silence before Dr. Niall clears his throat. “I'm going to miss him too, for what it's worth. But we're doing what's best for him, Liam. We really are.”

When Liam doesn't reply, Dr. Niall turns the radio up, loud enough to drown out the silence. Liam hums along quietly, and Harry's eyes slip shut, his face tucked under Liam's chin.

-

Liam wakes abruptly when the van finally rolls to a stop, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Harry's still snoring gently, his cheek pressed to Liam's heart, one fist gripping his shirt tightly. He doesn't stir until Dr. Niall slides the side door open and gray, early morning light spills in, along with the briny smell of the ocean.

Dr. Niall's parked the van on the edge of a narrow, rocky beach wedged between two craggy cliffs. It looks lonesome and remote, which is the point, Liam reminds himself. Harry will be safe from from human interference here, free to live his life.

Liam's just worried it's going to a lonely one.

“C'mon, love, we made it,” Liam whispers, scooting towards the door. He lifts Harry up with a groan, Harry sliding one arm around Liam's neck automatically, and doesn't think about how this is the last time he'll have to strain his back, carrying Harry around. His shoes sink into the sand as he picks his way to the water, a sharp breeze stinging his eyes. He blinks rapidly, but it doesn't really help.

When Liam reaches the edge of the lapping water, he slowly kneels down, gently placing Harry on the wet sand. “It's all right,” Liam tells him. “You'll be safe here.”

Harry just holds on tighter, both arms wrapped around Liam's neck.

“I've got more shrimp,” Dr. Niall offers. “I can try tossing some into the water, see if he'll go for them.”

“He's not a dog,” Liam says, sharper than he means to.

Dr. Niall's quiet a moment. “I know, Liam.” He sets the container of shrimp down next to Liam. “I'll give you two some privacy.” He squeezes Liam's shoulder before pushing back to his feet, and Liam sucks in a shaky breath.

“Don't go,” Harry says as soon as Dr. Niall walks away. “I don't like it when you go.”

It takes Liam a few tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I'm sorry, love. But you can't live in my bathtub. Your family is out there, and I know they miss you too.”

Harry squirms in his arms, pulling himself up until he's at Liam's eye level. “You're my family,” he says, insistent. “I care about you. I love you. That's family.”

“Harry--” Liam shakes his head, pushing Harry's windblown hair out of his face, tucking it behinds his ears. “I'm not your real family. I – I care about you too, I do, but I can't – I can't keep you safe. I can't watch them hurt you. I need you to stay here, away from the danger. Do you understand? You can't come home. You can't be with me.”

A muscle in Harry's jaw ticks, and Liam thinks he's going to argue, to put up a fight. Instead, he cups Liam's cheek with one hand, his skin cool to the touch. Harry leans until until their mouths brush, and he doesn't pull back this time, increasing the pressure, kissing Liam with urgency.

When he finally does break the kiss, Liam feels light-headed.

“You love me too,” Harry says, glaring at Liam. He shoves Liam in the chest, hard. “Idiot. I'll go. _You_ don't like it.”

“Harry, wait,” Liam tries, but Harry's already wriggling free from Liam's arms, his tail thrashing violently. He throws himself into the shallow water, slipping under the surface as soon as it's deep enough.

Liam jumps to his feet, scattering sand everywhere. “Harry!”

He stands there until the sun crests the horizon, turning the sky from gray to gold, scanning the water for any sign of him, but Harry doesn't surface.

Eventually, Dr. Niall claps him on the shoulder. “You've got to let him go, Liam.”

Liam knows he's right, but it doesn't make it any easier, turning his back to the ocean to trudge back to the van.

-

Liam wants to give notice of his resignation, but Dr. Niall talks him out of it. “It'd look suspicious, especially when they're still investigating. You won't get to see Harry again if you're behind bars for stealing the lab's intellectual property.”

“Harry's not property,” Liam mutters, but he shreds his resignation letter all the same, watching the machine spit out the pieces.

After that, he's careful to wait until the crack beneath Dr. Niall's door is dark before tidying his office. He reports to work on time and cleans methodically, avoiding all locked rooms. Whenever he can't sleep – which is almost always – he watches the news, heart in his throat as he waits for the headline he never wants to see. Wherever Harry is, though, he's managed to stay off the radar, because day after day, week after week, there are no reports of any suspicious mermaid sightings.

One night, Liam forgets to grab an extra box of gloves and has to circle back to the supply closet. He passes by a familiar door, and pulls up short when he sees that it's been cracked open. Glancing back and forth – the hallway's deserted – Liam cautiously steps through the doorway, taking the familiar set of stairs up to the observation deck even though he knows he won't find what he's looking for in the end.

The door to the deck is unlocked too, and Liam realizes why as soon as he spots the figure standing at the railing, gaze fixed on something in the distance.

Liam tries to back up, but Dr. Niall turns his head and spots him before he can slip back through the door.

“Hey Liam,” he says. “Been awhile since I've seen you.”

Liam shrugs, uncomfortable. It's not that he's been avoiding Dr. Niall in particular, it's just that he's been avoiding everything that reminds him of Harry in general. He really needs to quit now that the fuss has died down, because everything about this place reminds him of Harry.

“Sorry,” Liam says. “I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

Dr. Niall waves his hand. “No, no, you didn't interrupt. Just stepped out here to clear my head a bit, get some fresh air.” He looks back towards the water, a smile tugging at his lips. “You know, that's how I first met Harry. Was out here late one night, lost in my own thoughts, and he just popped up out of nowhere. Scared the shit of me.”

Liam takes a cautious step closer, leaning against the cold metal railing. “Really? He just showed up out of nowhere?”

Shooting Liam an amused look, Dr. Niall says, “Well, unbeknownst to me at the time, I was sharing this particular deck with a bucket of leftover fish from earlier in the day. Harry darted right up, quick as a flash, and snatched the bucket. Thought it was some kid on a dare something.” Dr. Niall laughs, shaking his head. “Then he grabbed one of the fish out of the bucket and took a giant bite of it, staring at me the whole while like he thought I was gonna tell him off for it. Figured something was off, at that point.”

He falls silent and Liam waits impatiently. “So then what happened?” he prompts, when Dr. Niall doesn't add anything.

“Oh, well, he showed up again the next night, didn't he? I was more prepared the second time. Held onto the bucket and offered him the fish one at a time. Turned into a bit of a game, him trying to snatch the fish out of my hand fast as he could, and me trying to pull it out of reach at the last moment. Got a smile out of him when he finally won.”

Dr. Niall turns to the side, resting one elbow on the railing to look Liam in the eye. “It took me weeks to build up enough trust with him that he'd let me touch him, and even then he was quick to shy away. Ben was the only one I told about him, and Harry wouldn't come any closer than 10 feet the one time I brought him out here with me. Figured it was part of his nature, being so skittish. Made sense, right, since he's the only one of his kind we ever had contact with. A built in safety mechanism, being wary of humans.”

Liam chews on his lip. “But… then why…?”

Shrugging, Dr. Niall says, “I don't know, Liam. But I got further with him when you were around than I ever did on my own. There's something to be said for that.”

Gripping the railing until the cold metal bites into his palms, Liam takes a deep breath. “Do you think he'll come back?”

Dr. Niall considers that. “Did he tell you he would?”

Liam gives him a sharp look. “What?”

Smiling warmly – always warmly – Dr. Niall says, “Liam, I'm no fool. Harry was too smart to be playing the games he played. I would've been surprised if he didn't find a way to communicate with you.”

“I-- it wasn't--”

Dr. Niall holds up a hand. “It's all right. It's enough for me, knowing I was right.” He pauses before adding, in a careful voice, “But it's not enough for you, is it?”

“I miss him,” Liam confesses, unable to hold Dr. Niall's eye. “I really, really miss him.”

“You know I'll be here, monitoring the radar, enjoying my nightly breaks out on this deck,” Dr. Niall says, nonchalant. “Research is my life, Liam, and I'm not going anywhere, so if something were to pop up, I'd be able to let you know. You, on the other hand – you're young, with your whole future ahead of you. If you wanted to pick up and move, start over somewhere new, chase your dream, well. I'd be happy to be a reference for you, help you get a job, get back on your feet.”

Liam stares at him. “You think I should go find Harry?”

Dr. Niall winks.

-

Liam packs an overnight bag and his meager savings to take a train ride up the coast, the information for his motel stuffed in his pocket and his fingers drumming nervously against the windowsill. It's a few hours before check-in when he arrives at the station, and he's too impatient to wait.

The cab driver gives him an odd look when Liam asks to be dropped off at the edge of the narrow, rocky beach wedged between two craggy cliffs, his overnight bag slung over one shoulder. Liam waits until it's out of sight before dropping his bag and kicking off his shoes, picking his way through the sand on bare feet.

It's late afternoon and there's no reason to think that Harry will surface while it's still light out, no reason to think he's even stuck around this lonely, desolate place.

Liam's heart pounds all the same, sucking in a sharp breath when his feet touch the cold water lapping at the shore.

“Harry!” he calls, wading in further, water soaking his cuffs. “Harry, where are you?” The waves are hitting him about knee high when he starts to shiver, rubbing his hands over his arms. “Harry, love, If you're out there, please come back!”

His jacket keeps the cutting wind at bay, but his feet and legs are freezing, his trousers sopping with salt encrusted water. He's an idiot, showing up like this, ruining his clothes and likely catching pneumonia on a whim. He should come back at night with a torch and hope that if Harry has stuck around, he'll see Liam's light and come back to him.

“Harry!” he calls one last time, not quite willing to turn back just yet despite his chattering teeth. “I'm sorry! I never should have left you.”

Liam's taken one step backwards towards the shore, not yet ready to turn around, when something breaches the surface. It's too far away to tell what it is, just a dark smudge against the water. Liam's heart skips a beat anyway.

“Harry? Harry, is that you?”

The smudge disappears beneath the water and Liam sags with disappointment. He can't really afford to take a cab back out here later tonight, but maybe if he changes into some dry trousers he'll warm up a bit and can wait it out until dark falls, and then--

This time when the smudge breaches the surfaces, it's close enough that Liam can tell it's not a smudge at all. “Harry,” he breathes, not quite daring to believe it. “ _Harry_.”

Liam charges forward, kicking up water, not caring that he's wet from head to toe. Harry doesn't duck back under the surface, cutting through the waves to Liam with short, efficient strokes, his eyes fixed on Liam. They meet in the middle, the water up to Liam's waist, and when Harry flings himself at Liam, he topples over with a splash.

In his excitement, Liam forgot about breathing, and the cold shock of water hits him hard, his lungs screaming for oxygen. A warm, solid arm wraps around Liam's middle, and he's pulled to the surface a second later, gasping for air.

Harry drags him all the way to the beach, depositing Liam on his back on the wet sand. “Liam,” he says in wonder, running his hands up and down Liam's heaving chest, brushing his face, squeezing his hands.

“I'm sorry I left you,” Liam manages, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Sand clings to his back and his waterlogged clothes are wet and uncomfortable, but Liam never wants to move from this spot. “I love you, Harry. I care about you. I'm going to stay this time, okay?”

Harry's smile lights up his whole face. “Idiot,” he says, sounding delighted. “I know. I love you too.”

When Harry kisses him, Liam forgets about the cold, and the wet, and the sand. Nothing else really matters.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://moondoggiestyle.tumblr.com/), and feel free to drop a line about any mermaid inquiries :):)


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